If I Never See Your Face Again
by purrpickle
Summary: Tasked with performing a duet together, Santana and Rachel don't get very far before they start clashing. Add in a sexually charged song and choreography, and oh how the sparks fly. Pezberry, two-or-three-shot.


**A/N: **I don't own Glee nor the characters within. New story, I know, but it shouldn't be more than a couple of chapters long (oh, look, now I've jinxed myself). Anyway, this is a request fic for animatedbrowneyes, who gave me the irresistable prompt of Santana and Rachel singing Maroon 5 and Rihanna's song _If I Never See Your Face Again_ (of which I do not own as well) in glee. As always, I cannot do simple stories. Also, as always, there will be at least (heh heh) some level of Pezberry in here. *grin* Enjoy~

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><p>Rachel spent two evenings mapping out their whole performance. Sitting on her bed, flipping through fashion magazines that she'd brought from her own home (obviously) and offering snide comments every now and then, Santana let the small girl plan to her heart's content. However, when she finished, eyes shining with zeal and mouth moving a mile a minute as she started jabbering about precise body movement, Santana rolled her eyes, slapped a hand over her mouth, and promptly told her there was no way in hell they were following Rachel's plan. Her plan, she stated smugly while pulling out a burned copy of the music video and the notes she'd jotted down in math class, was fucking awesome.<p>

"But…" Rachel's lower lip actually started to tremble, "If you've had this plan since the beginning, why didn't you say anything? I've been planning for two _days_, Santana!"

Santana shrugged indifferently. "I figured you'd get it out of your system and be so tired that you'd have no choice but go along with what I say."

Rachel narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms and tossing her hair. "Well, who says I'll even _listen _to your proposal?" Turning around, she shook her head. "It would be within my _right _to refuse. This assignment is supposed to be about _teamwork_, not _dictatorship_!"

"Teamwork." Santana snorted. "Sure, and me sitting on the bed while you gabbed on, barely paying any attention to me, is _teamwork_."

Rachel's eyes narrowed, and she decided looking at her wall wasn't helpful anymore. She turned back to Santana. "You didn't _say _you had any prob–_lem! __**Santana**_!" Her face draining of all color, the small girl could only stare in abject horror as Santana merrily finished erasing everything Rachel had written on her dry erase board. "Wha… Buh…" She weaved in place, lowering and raising herself in a desperate bid to see if any shiny reflection of what she had written remained.

"There!" Dropping the eraser and brushing her palms together, Santana smirked arrogantly at the hyperventilating girl. She placed her hands on her hips, "Now we've _gots _to do my choreography."

Taking a couple of breaths to calm herself down while gnashing her teeth at Santana's _audacity_, hoping the anger would stop her from bursting into tears – she hadn't even had the chance to copy everything into her _Future Director Experience _notebook yet! – one look into Santana's highly satisfied dancing dark eyes pushed her over the edge. "Santana, you – ! _I hope you're proud of yourself._"

She swung around and ran out of the room, barely holding back her tears until the door closed after her.

Santana stared at the slammed door. Looking over at the gleaming white board, an uncomfortable expression crossed her face. "What a fuckin' diva," she muttered without her usual edge. She sat back onto the side of the bed.

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><p>Fifteen minutes later, she found Rachel curled up on a lawn chair, chin trembling and eyes red. She had her pet bulldog Fiyero wrapped up in her arms, and it was obvious the other girl didn't care that he had slobbered all over her shirt. Standing behind her awkwardly for a couple of minutes, Santana cleared her throat.<p>

Fiyero gave a low woof, rotating his head to glare reproachfully at her, but didn't try to move from his mistress' grasp. Rachel continued staring out over her lawn.

Standing awkwardly for another minute, Santana couldn't take it any longer. "Do you really think I'm _that _much of a bitch that I'd just erase your shit for kicks?" she burst out.

"Well, I don't know, Santana," Rachel's voice was misleadingly calm, "Your actions only illustrated the opposite of what you're positing."

Santana rolled her eyes and walked around to face the girl and her dog, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. With her other hand, she tossed a notebook at Rachel's legs, making Fiyero jerk and let out another breathy woof.

Rachel shrugged it off, not looking away from the very interesting patch of sunflowers Santana was sure one of her fathers had planted (she certainly couldn't see Rachel being a gardener… Well, okay, _maybe_).

Gritting her teeth, Santana bent down and picked it back up. "Jesus, Berry," she thrust the notebook at Rachel again, "Look away from the damn sunflowers for one second!"

"Why?" Ignoring the notebook in front of her face, Fiyero snuffling at the corner, Rachel instead moved her gaze up to Santana's face. Equal amounts of hurt and anger swam in her dark eyes, and the girl glared at her accusatorily, "Why should I grant you my attention when you so callously eradicated all the fruits of my labor, which, I _assure _you, I had given my _full_ attention!"

Santana stared at her. "Okay, you know what? Fuck this." Abruptly, she threw her hands up into the air, the notebook smacking violently onto the lawn chair again when she brought them down. "I'll be in your bedroom if you _decide _you want to give me any of your damn _attention_." Whirling around, she started stalking off.

"_Santana_!" Rachel snapped, probably sitting up because Fiyero made a protesting grunt, "I don't know why you – "

"Read the damn notebook!" Santana yelled, stomping back into the house. As she passed Rachel's fathers, staring at her, she offered a short, "PMS." She caught their winces and nods out of the corner of her eye as she quickly scaled the stairs back up to Rachel's room. Pulling out her laptop as soon as she dropped onto the bed again, she tapped her fingers against her thigh impatiently as she waited for it to boot up. Then, slipping her earbuds into her ears and connecting her USB, she started watching the music video for the nth time.

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><p>She didn't know how long it was until a small voice cleared loud enough to distract her from the computer screen. She had actually been aware of Rachel's presence for a while, but had decided to let the girl suffer a little, so she'd ignored her. Raising her gaze from her screen with an unsympathetic expression on her face, she surveyed the girl silently. Finally, when Rachel brought the notebook up from where she had been crushing it into her side, Santana raised an eyebrow and took her earbuds out. "Yes?"<p>

Rachel looked determined not to give any quarter to Santana. "It doesn't really make it better," she held the notebook out until Santana took it from her, "But thank you."

Santana set the notebook down next to her. "Then why are you giving it back?" she asked dryly, putting her laptop down on the other side of her and scooting forward enough until her legs hung over the bed.

"I scanned it," Rachel admitted with a faint smile. Her eyes weren't so red anymore, and she'd managed to change out of her dog-drool shirt, which made Santana smirk. She'd never have expected the small girl to have a bulldog in the first place, so it was highly amusing seeing her deal with the results of that ownership. "However, Santana," she frowned, rubbing the tops of her arms, "That was an irresponsible and _incredibly _atrocious thing for you to have done. How was I to know you had been writing everything down?"

Shrugging, Santana stood up. "Well, whatever. I did it, you got mad, we're here now. End of story. Now," she took Rachel by the shoulders, forcing her around to push her down onto the spot she had just vacated, "You will sit in absolute _silence _while I tell you what's gonna go down on Monday."

Rachel gave her a huffy look, crossing her arms again after flicking her hair behind her shoulder. "I _suppose_," she ground out, "I can at least listen to what you are proposing."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Awesome. Now shut your mouth. This is The Santana Show; not the Midget Follies, kay? Kay."

With only a glare and tightening of her jaw, Rachel gave her a short nod.

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><p>When Santana was done outlining her kickass idea, Rachel's eyes were so wide and her mouth dropped open so low that it totally looked like she was the screaming figure from, well, <em>The Scream<em>. Getting kind of annoyed and suspicious that she was being insulted, Santana sneered defensively, raising her chin. "What?"

Rachel blinked, clicked her jaw shut, then licked dry lips. "Ah, Santana…" she started, eyes flicking down then back up as she nervously started playing with the bottom of her shirt, "While your idea is certainly… _Feasible_ and… Very… Well, _imaginative_…"

Santana glared at her. "You goin' somewhere with this?"

Rachel's lips thinned, and she nodded. "I am."

"Then get on with it."

Rachel shot her an annoyed look, then shuffled her shoulders. "Alright," she started again, "I commend and applaud the way you have adapted the music video into a cohesive and visually stunning performance that if we do right will wow and sufficiently meet the criteria given to us by Mr. Schuester, as well as successfully utilize the space given to us, be it the choir room or auditorium, to maximize that 'wow' factor – "

"Oh my god, Berry! Stop the verbal diarrhea and get to your point!"

"It's awfully gay!"

Rachel's yelp echoed in her room. Then, as if realizing what she had just said, the small girl started verbally backpedaling, "I mean, not that there's anything _wrong _with being gay, of course. There are my fathers, whom I love very much, and are wonderful examples of a loving, successful, gay family. I'm also a big supporter of the LGBT community, after all, and indeed, as my acting career takes off, if I am to think about what shall surely happen in my future, I should be and am prepared to proudly accept roles that are not those of the more common heterosexual archetypes."

Standing in front of her with a hand to her forehead, Santana's shoulders got tenser and tenser as Rachel continued babbling. When she started in on applauding Santana for her casual embracing of her sexuality, Santana walked over to the still open bedroom door and slammed it shut. "Yo! Jackhammer Mary," she snapped, "Shut. The. Fuck. _Up_."

Caught in the middle of a word with her mouth open, Rachel flinched, clacking her teeth together.

"_Thank _you," Santana glared at her. "Jesus, anyone ever tell you that your nervous prattling is enough to make someone get a gun and shoot their brains out?" Holding up a hand to stop the angry retort she knew was coming, she lowered it to her hip when Rachel grudgingly shut her mouth. "Alright. _Yes_. It's incredibly gay. But it's _hot_."

Rachel made to open her mouth again, but Santana jerked her head sharply to shut her up. "And. Berry. _Think_. Don't you want Finnept to see what he's missing and _crap _himself with jealousy?" Her eyes slid away, and she frowned, hissing, "And I _know_ Britts will see what the _fuck _she's missing."

Rachel's mouth opened again, but she closed it herself after a moment of awareness sparked across her face. "I believe I understand," she murmured, looking down at her hands in her lap. She slowly looked back up, meeting Santana's gaze, "But do you really wish to do this with _me_?"


End file.
